


Hi, I Broke into your Dorm Room to help you with your Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

by FishMum



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot, Sad Saihara Shuichi, Self-Harm, Shuichi needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishMum/pseuds/FishMum
Summary: Kokichi isn't an angel or a savior. He just has a keen sense and the ability to pick the locks of Hope's Peak's dormitory rooms.
Relationships: Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 572
Collections: Quality Fics





	Hi, I Broke into your Dorm Room to help you with your Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> leave me be i didn't have ideas for an original title-
> 
> anyways, something i wrote a while ago as a vent and finished up today cause it was decent- hgfdg shuichi is a huge comfort character for me so i like to vent through him :,,,)
> 
> **Please refrain from reading this if topics like self harm and/or suicide make you uncomfortable! Take care of yourselves, please and thank you!**

Ouma can only hopelessly stare at the seat his absolute favorite detective to bug usually sat in.

For once, the bench in front of Ouma was empty, save for Harukawa and Momota, who unfortunately sat next to his beloved. This was new, he can’t help but note. From the lectures he hasn’t skipped, he knows for a fact that workaholic Shuichi Saihara never misses a lecture.  
Ouma has observed Saihara enough from a distance to have his general routine down to a T. The detective would waltz into the lecture hall with an exasperated expression, black coffee in a to-go cup in one hand, and his over-the-shoulder bag being clutched by the other. He’d sit in a bench that was relatively in the back of the hall, often sitting with Momota and Harukawa. After Kokichi (who always makes sure to sit in the bench behind him) pesters him for a bit, Shuichi would pull out his laptop and try to ignore him as the lecture began. In between classes, Kokichi found that Shuichi would do one of three things - disappear into his dorm room, hang around with Harukawa, Momota, Akamatsu, or some mix out of the three, or go out of campus grounds for a little while. Ouma’s theory is that he studies or works on cases in a café, considering he always returns with his usual black coffee (He doesn’t actually follow him out of campus, even Ouma has standards).

Today, on the other hand, his detective was nowhere to be seen. He hates to seem desperate, but Ouma leans forwards and flicks Kaito in the back of the head.

“Hey! What the hell Ouma?” He snarls as he whips his head around to face the other.

“Where’s Shumai at? If he’s not here it means I have to stoop down to bothering you. And we both don’t want that.”

“You liar! You love messing with me!”

Ouma laughs deviously, making sure to flash his best signature smirk. “Yeah, you’re right.” He sets his hand underneath his chin. “But you’re too boring compared to Saihara. Where are you hiding him?”

Momota grumbles profanities under his breath, over time he’s learnt that shouting at Kokichi will only encourage his behavior, so he does his best to not explode at him anymore. Sometimes it’s just necessary though.  
“Look, I don’t know. Okay? He hasn’t answered my calls today. Maybe he’s just busy with something.”

“Wow, some best friend you are.”

“You son of a-“

“Calm down.” Harukawa’s cold tone cuts through their conversation like a knife through butter. Ouma knows better than to mess with her (he’s gotten his fair share of death threats and chokeholds from her), but he can’t help but push her buttons just a little.  
“Now now, Maki-Roll, I’m just a concerned bystander!”

“Do not call me that.” She snarls, shooting him her usual death glare than he’s grown accustomed to. “And it’s none of your business. Leave us alone.” With that, she turns around, and forces Kaito to do the same. They seem to continue the conversation without him.

“You think he just overslept?”

“With his sleep schedule, probably. He’ll either be late or come to the next class.”

Ouma hates to admit that her words reassure him a little. She’s probably right though, Saihara had some of the worst insomnia Kokichi has ever seen, and he’s run into him in the dormitory’s kitchen at 3AM more than once.  
With his head at ease, he opens a notepad, sketching out a portrait of his beloved in the corner of the page. When he’s done with it, he spends the rest of the lecture doodling cats, eyes occasionally wandering back to the portrait.

Two more classes pass, and Saihara shows up for neither. After contemplating his options, Ouma decides he’ll stop by his dorm room to see if he was alive, his day was boring enough as it is, and he craved poking fun at his detective for anything, really.

Seems he wasn’t the only one with that bright idea. Once again he runs into Momota and Harukawa, they’re knocking at Saihara’s door with visible concern at his absence.

“Hey broooo? All good?” Kaito speaks in an obnoxiously loud voice.

“He’s not answering. I don’t think he’s here.”

“Well, where on earth would he go then???”

“Perhaps Akamatsu knows. We could ask.” Harukawa offers.

“Wooowwww, he could totally be dead you know! You guys just gonna stand there and take that?” Kokichi worms his way into the conversation as he walks up to the two.

“Kokichi.” Maki grits the name through her teeth, looking like she had just uttered an ill omen.

“Don’t joke about things like that!” Kaito quips, setting his hands on his hips. His coat flutters behind his right shoulder, and Kokichi wonders if he knows how stupid he looks wearing his coat the way he does.

“Well, it IS a possibility. And here we are, wasting the time that could be used to save him!”

A visible panic flashes in Kaito’s expression for a brief moment, while Maki rolls her eyes at Kokichi’s melodramatics.

“He’s just messing with us, Kaito.” She grits, crimson eyes burning a hole into the shorter male’s figure.

He can only gasp. “How rude! He could totally be hurt or dead in there and need our help! Aren’t you guys supposed to be like his best friends in the world or something?”

“What’s your solution?” Kaito suddenly quips, raising an eyebrow towards him.

“I’m glad you asked!” With that, Kokichi fishes a bobby pin out of the pocket of his jeans, and drops to his knees in front of the detective’s door.

“Wait, you’re going to break in?! That’s an invasion of privacy!”

Ouma waves a hand dismissively, briefly pausing to admire his chipped off nail polish. “Oh come on, it’s all for his well-being. We’re just checking if he’s alive. Oo, maybe this is a locked door murder! You guys think he’s solved one of those?”

“Stop joking about things like that dude, seriously.” Kaito looks at Maki begrudgingly, she simply shrugs her shoulders, but makes no effort to stop Kokichi. He can only smirk at the fact that his dramatics had gotten under her skin too.

There are a few seconds of silence as Kokichi inserts the bobby pin into the keyhole, save for the quiet clinking of the lock mechanisms. His head perks up when a click! is heard, and he pushes the door open.

It’s then Kokichi realizes he’s never actually been in Shuichi’s room. His eyes automatically scan the vicinity in curiosity. It’s not as neat as he expected it to be, he has to admit. There’s a bed in the corner with a black blanket that’s been lazily tossed on it, a book shelf littered with all kinds of literature, a laundry hamper with a pant leg hanging out of it, a closet, a noticeable bulletin board with all kinds of papers and notes, Shuichi’s usual bag leaning on the side of the bed.. But the most noticeable thing was his desk, and Shuichi’s figure slumped over it.

“I told you he overslept.” Maki whispers as her eyes mull over his body from the door’s frame.

“Ouma!” Kaito hisses in a hushed breath as Kokichi carelessly wanders into his room.

“Whaaat? I’m just making sure!” He whisper-shouts towards the two, and Harukawa looks like she’s about two seconds away from strangling him.

He skips towards the detective’s body, and watches his back rise and fall with every breath. He notes messy blue locks as he goes to catch a glimpse of his face, only for his eyes instantly give their attention to his arm instead.  
Kokichi feels his heart drop to his stomach.

He swears to god and crosses his heart that the comments of Shuichi being dead or every time he teased him for being emo we’re nothing but jokes. Kokichi Ouma knows his moral is wonky, and his jokes can be dark and obnoxious, and he usually doesn’t care, but right now he feels an overwhelming rush of guilt to his chest. He swears he didn’t know.

The angry red lines and dried blood against pale skin make his stomach flip in an uneasy manner, but he can’t look away.

He suddenly remembers he’s not alone, he can’t drop his façade so suddenly, especially not in front of Kaito and Maki. Speaking of Maki, she was about to come and physically drag him out of the room herself. He had to act quickly.  
Despite how transparent Shuichi can be, this is obviously something he works to hide, if Ouma was considering it may have not been the first time. The kind detective wouldn’t dare worry his closest friends with such a thing, so Kokichi respects the theoretical wishes and quickly works to lower the sleeves of his sweater down. He’s thankful Shuichi wore a black one, so a wound wouldn’t be spotted.

As soon as Kokichi turns around, he’s met with a disgruntled looking Maki.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re gonna wake him up.”

“Tch, sorry, I was busy being a generous soul. He was cold, goosebumps from heat to toe! I woefully apologize for being a good person!”

“Shut the hell up.” She grinds the whisper through her teeth, it took everything in her to keep calm as to not wake her friend up.

“Did you know that sleeping in a cold room makes you more prone to nightmares?” He repeats an article he read online. Maki looks uninterested in the scientific facts Ouma had to offer.

“Get out.”

“Jeeeeeeeez, okay! No need to get all scary. He’s fast asleep.” He scoffs, taking a glance at the detective. “At least put him in bed, jeez, he’s gonna wake up with some killer neck cramps with that position!”

“Fine. I’ll handle it, you leave.” She surprisingly doesn’t shut down the idea completely, and gets to work, lifting Shuichi with ease and gently carrying him to his bed. Kokichi can practically hear Momota drooling at his girlfriend, who most definitely has the strength to kick his ass with ease.  
Ouma watches her actions, silently praying she doesn’t lay him on his arm. That’d hurt.

Luckily, Shuichi is laid on his back, head on his pillow and blanket thrown over his body.

Ouma is hastily ushered out of the room, but he can’t help but keep his eyes on Shuichi. The worry isn’t prominent, but it’s there if one looks close enough.

“Let him sleep.” Maki says to no one in particular, it’s more of an order rather than a request. Kaito nods in agreement, and looks towards his lover. “Let’s go hang out then, Maki Roll.”

“Mm..” She hums in agreement, the two turn to leave, hand in hand.

“Jeez, not even a goodbye, or a thank you? Ruuuude.” Kokichi does his part to ruin the moment between them. They can only glare. Satisfied, Ouma begins walking the opposite direction.

“Where are you even going? Your dorm isn’t that way.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I can’t spend my whole life following you guys, can I?”

“Whatever.” Maki clearly regrets asking. “Just don’t cause any trouble.”  
The couple make their way out of the boy’s dormitories.

As soon as they turn the corner, Ouma is back on his knees, fumbling with the door’s lock once more. As soon as he’s inside, he slowly closes the door behind him, making the effort to not make any noise, which he was actually rather skilled at.

He then turns to look at the detective, who is laying on the bed with a blanket loosely tossed upon him. Ouma suddenly realizes how quiet it is, and furrows his eyebrows. He was never a fan of silence, but he complies with it for the sake of not waking Saihara.  
He isn’t exactly sure what he’s here to do, but he supposes it’s best to ensure the safety of his beloved.

As he sits on the side of the bed and reaches for Shuichi’s arm, he suddenly realizes this is a huge invasion of privacy. Then again, Kokichi was never one to have entirely good morals. He was doing this for Shuichi’s sake, and besides, he’d simply patch him up and quickly leave before he even woke up. It was a sin(?) only he would know of.

First thing’s first, he has to look at the status and severity of the wounds.  
He gently rolls the sweater’s sleeve upwards, to the detective’s elbow, and braces himself to look. Blood has never been something he enjoys all that much, despite never daring to admit such a thing. Violet eyes begin scanning the pale limb, and the first thing Kokichi notices is the location of the cuts. They’re not neat or orderly like Shuichi presents himself, they’re scattered close together in different directions. He then realizes that this could be a form of organized chaos, that it was done like this on purpose. When he studies the wounds, he can come up with an abundance of easily plausible lies for how they could have gotten there.  
Well played, detective.

The depth of the wounds weren’t fatal, but they still concern Ouma to an extent. Clearly the goal was to hurt, not to kill. The thought makes his heart ache. He prays that it’s not too late to prevent an infection as he goes to find something to clean the wounds with. If this is something Shuichi has indulged in in the past, surely he has something to help.  
Ouma is correct, he finds a soft cloth and sturdy bandages tucked in the corner of the medicine cabinet. He dampens the cloth with cool water, and grabs a towel and paper towels when he exits the bathroom.

Saihara is there just the way he left him, his face looks rather peaceful, it must’ve been a while since the last time he’s slept this heavily.  
Ouma returns to the spot on the side of the bed, and gets to work. His mind is devoid of any lies, snarky comments or jokes as he focuses on caring for Saihara.

He slides the towel under his arm, so any blood that may remain doesn’t stain his bed. It’s bound to get wet with water either way, Ouma notes as he begins to dab the cuts with the cloth. Red tinted water stains the white cloth ever-so-slightly, and droplets run down Saihara’s arm and are absorbed by the towel beneath him.

This continues for a few minutes, until Ouma is satisfied with the way they look. It’s better without the dried blood gathering at the corners, and seems a lot cleaner. He begins to dry his arm with the paper towels, ensuring he uses them until they come back dry. Once his arm is clean and dry, the final stage is thrust upon him. He opens the box of bandages, and pulls out a roll, assuming it’s enough.

It’s almost mesmerizing, the way he wraps the wounds with bandages. They’re slowly but surely concealed safely underneath the material, and some relief washes upon Ouma as he continues. He glances towards Shuichi’s face to ensure there was no pain present.

No, there wasn’t pain.  
But there were two golden eyes staring right at him.

Ouma abruptly stops what he’s doing, and in a rare occurrence, is rendered speechless.  
What do you say in such a situation? Hi, I broke into your room to help you with your unhealthy coping mechanisms? Ouma can’t be a smartass in this situation, and any genuine expression he could possibly have right now isn’t present on his face. His expression stays blank, and Shuichi is in the same boat. He stares at him in silence, and honey tinted eyes divert to look at the half-bandaged arm. Ouma supposes he should finish what he started. He suddenly wonders how long Saihara has been awake for.

Once the wounds are safely secured underneath the bandages, Ouma removes the towel from underneath his arm, and Saihara finally opens his mouth to speak.

“What time is it...?” Is his choice opener. Kokichi almost wants to laugh.

“You missed all your classes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Damn....” He mumbles in reply, staring down at the bandages encasing his arm.

“Is that seriously what concerns you right now?”

“Priorities.” He quips. Kokichi is unsure if it’s a joke or not, but is relieved to see Saihara give him a lopsided smile at his own comment.

“Hm.” Ouma hums. He’s unsure how to progress from here. “When did you wake up?” There, that’s not bad.

“It’s a little hard to sleep when someone’s pouring cold water onto your arm..” The detective points out, his smile stays, and Kokichi finds himself looking deep into the emotion behind it. It’s not a happy smile, but it isn’t necessarily sad. It’s somewhat nervous, and almost relieved, he notes.

“Whoopsies. I tried.”

Silence falls between the two again. Saihara is clearly thinking hard of something to say, so Ouma decides to slack off and allow him to fill in the void of silence.

“Um, Kokichi-“

“Mmyes?”

“You didn’t, ah, tell anyone, right-?”

He snorts. “Who do you think I am?”

Saihara shrugs in reply, pulling the blanket closer to himself as though it were a protective shield. He’s unsure if he wants to disappear, cry, or forget at that moment.  
“Okay.” He mumbles.

“Should I stay?”

“I don’t know.”

Kokichi hums. “Okay! It’s a yes then.” Before Shuichi can ask why, he answers. “Because whenever you say I don’t know you mean yes.”

Saihara rolls down his sleeve, clutching his arm towards his chest. He knows there’s no use in lying to Kokichi, he’s unsure why he even tried.  
“I just.. Don’t want to waste your time..”

“You’re right, you are wasting my time! I could totally be crashing Kaito and Maki’s date right now! I planned to put whoopee cushions on their chairs you know!” He very-obviously fake scoffs in annoyance. He’s horrid when it comes to emotional support, so the next best thing he can do is get Shuichi to smile.

“Heh... Sorry about that then.” It somewhat works, the lopsided smile returns to his lips.

It’s almost funny how they mutually tiptoe around the subject.

“What do you want to do then, beloved? Hit me!”

“Um, uh....” Saihara trails off, his eyes scan his room for ideas. They land on the open laptop amongst the mess on his cluttered desk. “We could.. watch a movie... or something else-?”

Kokichi nods as his lips curl into a smirk. “Well, I hope you’re ready for me to show you vocaloid meme compilations.”

“Sounds fun.” Anything sounds fun now. As long as he can avoid that subject. As long as he can find a way to stop thinking, and stop wanting to hurt. Besides, Kokichi was one to avoid these types of confrontations (as he was doing right now), so Saihara thinks this will be a breeze.  
As long as he doesn’t think.

The two change up their position, they lean their backs against the wall, legs crossed and the laptop in front of them. Saihara offers to share the blanket (Ouma makes sure to drop a lewd joke about getting under the covers with him, Shuichi on a normal day would flush and stutter, but he’s too tired to care today, and simply chuckles half heartedly), Ouma accepts the offer despite his teasing, he’d never pass up an opportunity to share a blanket with Shuichi.

He gets to work, showing Shuichi the funniest, stupidest videos he can think of. It’s the least he can do, provide a distraction.

And goddamn, Saihara wished it worked. But he can’t stop thinking, his slightly aching head is screaming at him.  
Shuichi likes Kokichi, he really does. As annoying, obnoxious, and tiring he can be, Shuichi can’t help but find him charming and cute at times.  
And now he feels as though he’s completely ruined any chance he ever had (if any) with him.

On any other day, sitting together and watching stupid compilation videos would be fantastic, and Shuichi would enjoy every second. But he can’t stop thinking of how he’s embarrassed himself now. The blank expression Kokichi wore when they made eye contact haunts him. What was he thinking? That he was pathetic? Was he pitying him? Does he thinking he’s crazy?  
He glances at the other for a brief moment. There’s no visible worry or frown on his face, but it’s Kokichi. He can flip his outward emotions as though they were but a simple light switch. Shuichi wants to disappear, he sinks into the blankets and hopes to drown in them. He doesn’t know if Kokichi ignoring the reason he was here was a good thing or a bad thing. He knows that he hates even grazing emotional subjects, especially something like this, yet Shuichi can’t help but feel almost... disappointed.

As his mind does it’s part to overthink, he’s absolutely mortified to see tears blur his vision. As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough today. He reaches to his eyes to rub the tears into oblivion, and tries to focus on the silly video Kokichi was showing him, but it’s hard following the onscreen character’s movement when his vision is obscured with even more pathetic droplets that define his every insecurity and failure.

And they just don’t stop falling.

The detective struggles to wipe the waterworks with the back of his sleeve in silence, it’s hopeless, and snot threatens to start running. As if he weren’t disgusting enough.

Kokichi comments on the video, clearly waiting for a response from Shuichi. He tries to form a response in a hasty manner, but the sound that comes out of his mouth is an utterly embarrassing gasp mixed with a hiccup. The second he sees Kokichi turning his head, he buries his face in his sleeved hands. He does not want to see what face he’s making at his gross crying.

He expects Kokichi to get up and perhaps give him some privacy, which isn’t a bad idea. What he doesn’t expect is to feel a thin pair of arms pull him into a gentle embrace.  
And Shuichi loses his shit.

He’s full-on sobbing now, and it’s disgusting, really. He doesn’t return the hug, and Kokichi’s shoulder is being smeared with tears and snot, though he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. He says nothing, and simply lets Saihara cry into his scarf.  
“...i’m sorry, i’m an idiot.....” is probably the only sentence Kokichi can make out in between desolate sobs. There’s more incoherent babbling that come out in whispers, but the ugly sobs slowly die down into sniffling and silent tears.

Shuichi wants to die. This week couldn’t get any better. He’s not sure if he cares anymore, so he finally hugs Kokichi back. It’s less for the sake of emotional support, but he wants to remind himself that he’s here. That someone is here next to him. This is real. He is real. What he’s feeling is real.

Kokichi goes for the gusto.  
“You should probably find better ways to cope.”

“I know.”

“And get actual professional help.”

“Yeah.”

“Saying yeah and you know is one thing, but you know Shumai actually has to get off his pretty butt and do it, right?”

The compliment flies over Shuichi’s head as he nods it. He cringes when he feels how wet Ouma’s shoulder is, and makes a mental note to apologize later on.

“And you should probably find actual friends to help you.” He suddenly adds, Shuichi’s nose crinkles in thought.

“I think you did a pretty good job.”

“Shu-“ Ouma begins in protest, but Shuichi does his part to cut him off.

“You noticed something was wrong and you did something about it. You stayed with and took care of me when you didn’t have to... Sounds like something a good friend would do.” Shuichi can’t help the small smile that makes it’s way onto his face when he refers to Ouma as his friend.

“Well. If Shumai reeeeaaaally insists that I, a busy supreme leader of an evil organization, be his friend, I guess I can make an exception. I have a tight schedule, just so you know.”

“I’m glad..” The detective mumbles into the checkered scarf. And after a moment of silence, he finally finds it in himself to pull away from the hug. Though he has to admit, having his arms around Ouma’s petite form was rather... nice.

The first thing Ouma does when Shuichi pulls away is pause the video that’s been playing in the background the entire time. The other watches him fondly.  
“...Thanks, Kokichi.”

“Hey, anytime you need me to blast some meme compilations while you sob into my shoulder, give me a call.”

“I thought you had a tight schedule?”

“...Touché.”

(After a good laugh, they really do spend the afternoon looking for local resources, but not without taking breaks to watch just a _few_ more meme compilations.)


End file.
